


Good, Clean Fun

by KuriKoer



Category: C6D - Fandom, Canadian 6 Degrees, Flashpoint
Genre: Comfort, Injury, M/M, Pool Sex, SRU, Shower Sex, Swimming, Water, tub sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKoer/pseuds/KuriKoer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Ed and Greg had a moment to themselves</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good, Clean Fun

**Author's Note:**

> For thimpressionist and ceruleancat, bathing/shower kink

.1 

 

On a good day, their work involved only talking. On a bad day, it involved blood.

Today was a mediocre day.

Sweat and grit and mud, some scraped palms, and at least two pairs of snazzy SRU pants that will need to be thrown out. Disgusting stuff in Jules' hair, and Greg was strangely happy for his easier cleanup routine. She and Sam made some excuses about preferring to shower at home and disappeared, convincingly ten minutes apart from each other; Wordy got a ride from the scene, Shelly showing up in her car with a gleam in her eyes. Spike cleaned up quickly and headed home to dinner while Greg and Ed wrapped up the finishing touches on the report, and then it was just the two of them. Alone. Washing the grime off their scalps and the sweat from under their arms, side by side in the cubicles, the entire building quiet but the sound of the water sluicing against the tiles and down the drains.

Greg soaped his chest, thinking of nothing in particular, letting the soothing rhythm of water and movement calm him. Then he caught a movement in the corner of his eye.

Ed's head appeared over the partition. He glanced down, long and pointed.

Greg laughed. "Are you peeking?"

Ed shrugged, smiling, the water beating behind him. "Maybe I am. So?"

"So," Greg dared him.

"Nothin' there I haven't seen before," Ed said, philosophical. He turned back to the wall, letting the water stream down his face, shaking his head.

Greg was curious. "So why were you looking?"

Another shrug. Now Greg moved closer to the partition, glancing down, almost furtively, which was silly considering the circumstances. It didn't stop him from feeling strangely guilty about looking, here, in the showers. It wasn't the same as looking when they were in his bedroom, and Ed was naked and all his. This was a _locker room_. You don't _look_ in locker rooms.

Except Ed was clearly getting harder. Just a bit.

And even though his eyes were closed under the onslaught of water, he started smiling and let his hand drop down, let his fingers wrap around his cock and pull on it, once, twice, lazy strokes that got him harder slowly, hypnotic and showy.

"Eddie.." It was a warning, or at least, Greg was sure it was a warning when he'd thought it. It wasn't a _plea_.

"If you're gonna make me drop the soap, Greg, I'm gonna go in there and shove it in your mouth," Ed interrupted, voice rough and disgruntled in the way it was whenever Ed didn't get his way in the exact moment he'd wanted it.

Greg's mouth fell open. Then he started giggling.

"...The soap, the _soap_!", Ed said loudly, but he was laughing too. "Okay, my threats are off today. Just get your soapy ass in here, okay?"

"Eddie, we're in the _locker room_ ," Greg started, but he was already shutting off the water in his cubicle, stepping out and hopping quickly under the warm spray of Ed's shower. He didn't bother washing the soap off, which was just as well, since Ed started running soapy hands over his back, down to his ass and back again.

"Yeah, I know. That's what makes it _naughty_ ," Ed mumbled, and turned Greg around, moving him against the wall. The tiles were cold against his back, but he barely noticed it because Ed was kissing him, mouth hot and insistent on his. Ed's cock was slippery against his own, coaxing it to wakefulness.

"The hot water here never runs out," Greg said, a little dreamy, and pulled Ed closer against him, their bodies rubbing together.

Ed groaned, and then leaned and said quietly, throatily, directly into Greg's ear, "Wanna fuck me?"

Greg paused. Then he mustered all his authority. "No," he groused. "I want to get clean and go home, where I have a nice warm bed and less chances to slip and break something important." But he had to admit the thought was tempting. Very tempting. His hands cupped Ed's ass, slipping in the suds, parting him, caressing the sensitive skin in between.

Ed moaned. "You're doing a pretty bad job saying no," he mumbled.

"Eddie, come on," Greg started, and then he was kissed again, resistance smothered in tongue and in moans and in Ed's heat against him, his insistent erection nudging Greg, demanding attention.

Greg placed his hand in the middle of Ed's chest, where the hair was matted down, wet and clean, and pushed gently. The sour frown he got in response could have been comical, except Ed never looked funny naked, not really.

"Hand jobs," Greg said. "Quick ones. Then home."

Ed raised an eyebrow. "Are you _talking me down_?"

"Eddie," Greg started, half apologetic and half annoyed at having to play the bad guy when Ed knew just as well they couldn't. But he never got to finish that thought.

"Guys? Anyone in there?" It was Winnie's voice, and Ed took a step back so fast he nearly slipped. Greg grabbed his arms and steadied him, giving him a stern _told you so_ glare.

"What is it," he called out loud after turning off the water. He gestured Ed to be quiet.

She sounded almost apologetic, but there was undeniable urgency in her voice. "Team Three left ten minutes ago and there's another call. I paged everyone, but I need someone to take the call now."

"We'll be there in less than five," Greg said loudly, and turned the water back on. Under the noise, he whispered to Ed, "You need to make a phone call?"

"Nah," Ed shrugged, already washing off the last of the soap and moving out of the stall to get his towel, efficient and quick despite the erection that hadn't quite faded, "I'm right behind ya."

"I know," Greg said, and took another moment to wash the soap from his eyes.

 

 

.2 

 

Greg hated it when they returned fire.

It was lucky they were shitty shots, though, because he's not sure he could take another bullet in Ed, but as it was, with the ricochet from the brick wall and the sharp, jagged tear in the dumpster side, anyway, it was already too close.

"I can do this," Ed grumbled.

"I know you can," Greg retorted, ignoring the protest and refusing to relinquish the sponge. "Sit tight and keep your hand elevated."

"It's a scratch," Ed said again, for the umpteenth time.

"It's a gash," Greg replied, tired of saying it, tired of trying to get Ed to rest. "Look, I enjoy this, okay? Let me do this."

Ed was quiet for a moment, and Greg was working up a lather, when the sniper suddenly said, "Kinky."

Greg looked up, startled. Ed was smirking. And waggling his eyebrows.

It was almost enough to distract him from the bandaged arm, with the plastic bag wrapped around it to protect it from the water.

"What?", Greg stammered, not sure exactly what Ed was talking about.

"Sponge bath. Very _Dear Penthouse_."

"How the hell do you even know that," Greg asked, and then caught himself. How Ed knew, or why he thought about that of all things, were both less important than the fact Ed's other, healthy hand was grabbing his wrist, moving the sponge down below water level.

"I've been very dirty," Ed purred. Greg stared at him for a moment, expressionless, and then cracked up.

Ed joined the laughter, his head falling back against the tub's edge. On impulse, Greg leaned in and licked along that long, taut throat.

"Yeah, now we're talkin'," Ed said, the low voice reverberating under the skin against Greg's lips.

"Just promise me you'll keep that hand up," Greg murmured.

Ed chuckled, the sound again fluttering with the pulse under Greg's tongue. "Hey, you keep up the good work, I won't have to use that hand at all." He made suggestive motions with his free hand, but was careful not to move the bandaged one.

Greg laughed. He picked the sponge and let it trail up Ed's abdomen, to his chest, rubbing it in slow circles before slipping it down again to brush against Ed's erection.

 

 

.3 

 

This year's picnic was by the poolside, and the whole team, spouses, children and assorted, enjoyed the sun, the sodas, the grade A steaks, and the company. Nothing like a group of people who know what it's like to have to put a bullet in someone, or to live with someone who had, to really appreciate the smaller joys in life.

When the warm evening changed into a rapidly cooling night, most people went indoors, where the light and laughter continued, along with the cheerful clanking of champagne glasses. It's been a good year for Team One, and they intended to celebrate.

Greg dawdled behind. He enjoyed seeing his people like this, laughing and seemingly carefree through the glass, the yellow lights of the living room warm on their faces. There were babies, children; this was family.

Ed snuck up on him with the peculiar silence of people who were trained for it, appearing soundless from the shadows and the darkness. Greg would have been startled, but a brief glare of the lights on Ed's pale head and body alerted him a heartbeat earlier of the movement. He turned to his friend and grinned. "What are you doing out here?"

"Could ask you the same thing," Ed swung back. He was wearing swim trunks and holding a paper cup. Greg was wondering how he's not cold; he was wearing a t-shirt and could still feel goosebumps rising.

"Just waiting until they're done toasting," he said quietly, still smiling.

Ed nodded, understanding all the unspoken parts. He raised his cup at Greg. "Flavoured soda," he said, took a sip, and held the cup out again, waiting. Greg took it and sipped, and then winced.

"What flavour is that?"

Ed shrugged. "Berry. Didn't specify what berry."

"Red-number-40-berry," Greg muttered. Then he grinned, grateful for the gesture, if not the product. "Thank you."

"Any time," Ed said quietly. "It's been a good year."

"Yeah," Greg agreed, thoughtful, and glanced again at the party, the people inside. He could hear shrieks of laughter as Wordy and Spike were obviously re-enacting one of the more ridiculous calls.

"Hey," Ed said, and took the cup from Greg's hand. Greg let him, not really paying attention, which is why he was caught by complete surprise when Ed's shoulder connected with his arm and he was hauled, quickly and efficiently, into the pool.

The indignant shriek was mostly muffled by copious amounts of water, but he surfaced fast and sputtered, flailing his arms and glaring at where Ed was still standing, laughing his ass off.

"You'd better," Greg started, but Ed was already halfway through a jump, athletic body stretching in a bow and diving in, leaving a fountain when he hit the surface, wetting the poolside and hitting Greg in the face again with a wall of water.

He surfaced moments later on the other side, still laughing apparently.

"I'll make you pay for that," Greg called and started swimming towards him, t-shirt hampering him only a little, warming up as he was moving in the water.

"Come and get me," Ed called back and dove under the surface again. Greg was heading his way when he felt something under him and was tackled.

Greg wasn't a man who tended to swear at his friends and loved ones, but he was just about to call Ed some pretty unpleasant names, or at least he planned to do that once he stopped laughing. Ed was standing again, and Greg knew he wouldn't win a wrestling match, so he did the next best thing to dunking he could think of. He crouched, fast as he could, reached for Ed's trunks, and pulled them down.

Ed was laughing, making no effort to pull them back up. "What are you, thirteen?"

"You can talk," Greg retorted, triumphant, and sneezed. "Damnit, my shirt's making me colder."

"Take it off," Ed suggested. He was still standing there, with the trunks around his ankles. The water reached his chest, but it didn't stop Greg from _knowing_ that if he only took a step, just one step, he'd be...

"Got all those people back there," he said awkwardly.

"Yeah," Ed agreed, glancing over Greg's shoulder to the lit glass doors. He crouched, bobbing under the water, and when he stood upright again, Greg knew his trunks were back in place. "Yeah," he repeated, with more regret.

"Another time," Greg said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Watery tart," Ed said, mimicking. His accent was atrocious, and Greg laughed. "Another time," Ed agreed, and then dove under the water again, swimming for the pool's edge.


End file.
